


Blocked

by kethni



Category: Veep (TV)
Genre: F/M, Post-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-11
Updated: 2020-01-11
Packaged: 2021-02-27 07:33:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,251
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22213369
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kethni/pseuds/kethni
Summary: Nonetheless, he was bored.
Relationships: Kent Davison/Sue Wilson
Comments: 4
Kudos: 8





	Blocked

Kent was bored. This wasn’t a common issue for him. He had a wide variety of interests and a well-developed imagination. Nonetheless, he was bored.

He wandered into the sunroom, where Sue was practicing the piano.

‘You are supposed to be enjoying creative time,’ she said.

‘I’m struggling to settle on a subject.’

‘Pick one at random,’ she suggested. ‘You’ll get to the others in time.’

He shrugged. ‘I would have to have one to begin with.’

She looked across at him. ‘I wasn’t aware that there was such a thing as sculptor’s block.’

He shrugged. ‘I’m sure there is such a thing as creative exhaustion, whatever name we may choose to call it.’

Sue turned over the page of her music. ‘You have been working creatively a great deal of late.’

‘I was trying to push myself,’ he protested.

She raised her eyebrow. ‘There was nothing in what I said that was critical. If you feel the need to be defensive, then you are defending against your own guilt or insecurity and nothing that I have said.’

Kent shrugged. ‘You may be correct.’

‘Naturally I am.’ She paused for a moment. ‘Are you here to vent or because you are looking for a solution?’

‘Both,’ he said. ‘Although I have now vented so I am remaining here in search of a solution.’

She nodded as she returned to her practice. ‘I can think of two.’

He folded his arms. ‘Is one of them to just get on with it?’

She shot him a look. ‘In a manner of speaking.’

‘Inspiration is fickle,’ he said.

She shook her head. ‘It also should not be fetishized. Don’t chase inspiration. Bolts from the blue are rare. Begin with no expectation but the process. Leave your ego outside.’

He laughed. ‘Sue Wilson is lecturing someone on their ego.’

‘Shut up,’ she said. ‘Especially when I am attempting to help you.’

‘Sorry,’ he said meekly. ‘What’s your other suggestion?’

She shrugged. ‘Do something else. Allow your creativity to be expressed in a new way. Paint. Write. Draw.’

Kent rested his hand on the top of the piano. ‘It’s a long time since I’ve written anything.’

‘Do that then,’ she said decisively. ‘Without a lot of obnoxious navel-gazing about inspiration.’

‘You told me that romance was a soporific for the mentally deficient,’ he said.

‘It is.’ She pursed her lips. ‘Write something else.’

‘Such as?’

She pursed her lips. ‘A thinly veiled and utterly scurrilous story about misbehaviour in the West Wing.’

He laughed. ‘That is a rather crowded market I suspect.’

‘Has anyone from the Meyer administration written one?’

He traced his fingers across the top of the piano. ‘If they have then they haven’t published one yet.’

‘There you are then,’ she said. ‘Now go away and stop bothering me.’

‘Spoilsport,’ he said lightly.

‘Disguise me a little less thinly,’ she ordered. ‘No Sam Watson or similar.’

‘Yes, Ma’am.’

***

Kent sat at his desk and opened his laptop. There was a noted tyranny to an empty page. The blinking cursor on a computer screen almost offensive in its insistence.

All right. It was obvious to begin at the beginning. Obvious and entirely boring. Better to select something particularly interesting and hopefully that would spark some greater enthusiasm.

_The night had been a wild one. Wind had ravaged the cherry trees. There was still another storm looming. Charcoal grey clouds boiled across the riven sky. When Andrea stalked into the office her long, dark hair whipped around her taut, athletic body._

Chiiiiirp?

Kent looked down. Merteuil looked up. She was all white with one blue eye and one amber eye. Sue had said more than once that she had assumed that Merteuil would grow up to be the kind of graceful, casually effortless cat that one saw being cradled by a certain type of filmic villain. Instead, the white kitten had grown into a sprawling, chunky cat that, Kent claimed, quite closely resembled a very small, all white, panda bear. Sue had not been amused at his argument that it served her right for not getting an adult cat from a shelter.

‘What?’ he asked. 

Meowrrr?

‘This is not helpful,’ he said, bending down to scoop her up. He put her on his lap and returned his attention to the laptop.

‘Are you talking to the cat?’ Sue called from the sunroom.

‘No.’

‘Don’t feed her!’

‘I’m not going to feed her!’ He looked down into Merteuil’s upturned face. ‘I’m not going to feed you.’

She walked around in several circles and then settled down.

_Klint was by the window, looking out of the window at the rose garden. There was never a true darkness here in the city. D.C. never truly slept. Even so, it was dark enough that when Andrea threw open the door and the light of the corridor spilled in, her reflection in the window was a mirror…_

‘Ugh,’ Kent said. He gently scratched Merteuil’s head. ‘That was extremely disappointing. Do you think I can edit it into something useable or should I delete it and start over?’

‘Are you asking the cat to critique your writing?’ Sue called.

‘No!’

***

Ben folded his arms and glowered at the world. They were sat on a bench in a rather nice park. A little cluttered perhaps in its proliferation of children’s play equipment, but otherwise very pleasantly laid out. Kent was enjoying watching a couple of squirrels romping in a tree. ‘

‘What’s your problem?’ Ben asked, half-heartedly waving at his son as he went down a slide.

‘I’m currently rather bereft of creative motivation,’ Kent said.

‘What?’

Kent shrugged. ‘I’m bored.’

Ben looked at Kent. ‘You called me up because you’re _bored_?’

‘I wasn’t aware that I had to have a reason that met with your approval.’

Ben grunted. ‘We’re retired. We’re supposed to be bored.’ He shoved his hand in his pocket as his daughter ran over. ‘Have a snack and go play more.’

‘Okay!’

‘That can’t be healthy,’ Kent said dryly.

‘When you’ve got kids then you can make fucking comments,’ Ben said.

Kent shrugged. ‘Besides, I’m not retired.’

Ben pulled a face. ‘Messing around with llamas isn’t a job.’

‘I ranch, which is not “messing around,” alpacas, not llamas.’ Kent crossed his legs. ‘It very much _is_ a job.’

‘Gimmie a break,’ Ben groused. ‘I bet you spend all your time in the house while your foreman or… stable boy or whatever does all the work. You probably get Sue to do all the paperwork.’

Kent chuckled. ‘If you’re so envious then why don’t you find something engaging to fill your time.’

‘I’m not envious!’

‘Work was always your only interest in life,’ Kent said. ‘And I am including your family in that.’

‘Fuck off.’

‘Although with a well-structured argument like that you could consider a second career as a debater,’ Kent said tartly.

‘If you make that god damn joke then I am gonna tell all the kids that you’re a Pinata full of candy and leave you to ‘em,’ Ben said.

‘What joke?’

‘The master debater joke,’ Ben said. ‘It’s not funny and it’s not clever.’

Kent gave him a sideways look. ‘It hadn’t even crossed my mind.’

‘Good.’

Kent waited to see if anything else was forthcoming, but Ben appeared to have said his piece. ‘You would likely be less bored if you found some pastimes.’

Ben scowled. ‘I don’t expect to not be bored. I’m just waiting to die.’

Kent rolled his eyes. ‘Good Lord. Does Joyce allow you to indulge in this wallowing in self-pity?

‘No, she tells to quit whining,’ Ben said. ‘She says I could have twenty years left, which is just a fucking crappy thing to say.’

‘That seems unfair,’ Kent allowed.

‘Right.’

‘You’ve always whined a lot. She should be used to it by now.’

Ben shuffled in his seat. ‘Yeah, but I’m home all day now. She didn’t used to see me more than three or four hours a week. You start to grate on one another.’

‘I need inspiration and you need a hobby,’ Kent said.

‘Aha! You admit the llamas aren’t a job,’ Ben said triumphantly.

‘No. I have a job. You cannot have a job because you will work yourself to death. I won’t do that.’

‘Spoilsport.’

***

‘I’ve never seen you with facial hair before,’ Kent said, sitting uncomfortably on the hard-plastic chair.

Gary scratched at his arm. ‘You have to pay at the commissary to get the horrible safety razors. It’s not worth the money.’

‘Hmm. I’ve never considered how prisoners groom themselves given that the authorities presumably attempt to restrict access to blades.’

‘With difficulty,’ Gary said. He shifted in his seat. ‘Thank you for putting money into my commissary account.’

Kent shook his head as he looked away. ‘It’s only what we agreed for your work.’

‘You could get a real consultant to do this stuff,’ Gary said. 

‘You’re hardly the only consultant I’ve met with a criminal record,’ Kent said dryly. ‘You’re not even the only one in prison.’

Gary shifted his feet. ‘The warden said that it would look very good on my parole application.’

Kent raised his eyebrows. ‘Already? That is extremely good news.’

Gary chewed his lip and looked around the room, searching for some other topic of conversation. ‘Have you seen anyone else recently?’

‘Uh Ben,’ Kent said. ‘I’ve been a little blocked creatively. Sue advised that I do other things for a while. Come back to it after a break refreshed.’

Gary leaned forward. ‘I’ve been writing a book.’

Kent’s mouth twitched. ‘A memoir?’

‘It’s a young adult novel about a girl fighting against a dystopian government,’ Gary said. ‘But, here’s the twist, she has to choose between two competing love interests.’

Kent blinked slowly. He opened his mouth and then shut it. ‘That is… interesting.’

‘One of them is the classically handsome, arrogant boy called Don and the other is the bookish but adoring boy called Gerry.’

Kent nodded. ‘And her name is… Celeste? Cecilia?’

‘Samantha,’ he said.

‘Of course it is.’ Kent folded his hands together. ‘I’d be lying if I said that Young Adult was a genre that particularly appealed to me. Although perhaps it simply wasn’t very commonly available when I was the target age for it.’

‘It’s very female-led,’ Gary said.

‘That’s a positive rather than a negative,’ Kent said. ‘Female stories are still woefully unrepresented.’

Gary played with his hands. ‘ _Some_ women don’t deserve to have their stories told.’

‘I don’t believe that betrayal is a purely female fault,’ Kent said carefully.

‘Huh.’ Gary folded his arms. He licked his lips. ‘Did you have a chance to look at the new flatware I suggested?’

‘Yes,’ Kent said quickly. Happy to change the subject.

***

Sue was getting ready to go out. Kent fed Merteuil and tidied up in the kitchen.

‘One of these days I’m going to make you come with me,’ Sue said, walking into the doorway.

‘I’ll come with you now if you like.’

She put her hand on her hip. ‘I’m wearing a three-thousand-dollar designer dress and you’re wearing jeans and a flannel shirt.’

Kent shrugged. ‘And?’

‘You can’t come to a diplomatic dinner dressed like that.’

He leaned back against the counter. ‘I _can_ ,’ he said.

‘I refuse to let that happen,’ she said firmly.

‘Then _you_ can’t,’ he said sweetly. ‘That’s on you, not me.’

Sue turned around so that he could lace up her dress. ‘It would be nice if you might consider supporting me with my work.’

‘I am very happy to be a sounding board for you,’ Kent said quietly. ‘I am very happy to proofread documents or give you any background information that you require.’

‘But,’ she said.

‘ _But,_ I am not going to get involved with politics and I am certainly not going to willingly spend any time with political operators.’ He turned her around to face him. ‘The very idea makes me feel nauseated.’

‘I work in politics,’ she said.

‘Sure, but you’re not political. You keep yourself separate from all the pollution.’ He kissed her softly. ‘Nobody else can do that.’

She frowned. ‘This feels like an excuse for you not to wear a suit.’

‘I’m not doing that either.’

‘One of these days I’m going to start wearing sweats and you’re going to sulk,’ she said.

He tilted his head. ‘I think you’d look adorable in sweats.’

She swatted him on the butt as she walked past. ‘I’m going. If you’re not going to join me at the dinner you can at least make sure that you’re waiting in bed for me when I get back.’

‘With hot chocolate or champagne?’ he called after her. ‘Marshmallows or chocolate dipped strawberries?’ His phone chimed as he heard the front door slammed shut.

_I’ll text you before I head home._

_P.S. Write something. Anything!_

Kent smiled. He looked down at Merteuil as she wound her way around his legs. ‘One of these days you’re going to break my neck.’ He walked up to his study with the cat plonking along behind him. He settled down at his desk and opened his laptop. Merteuil jumped up and circled Kent’s lap several times before sitting down.

The empty word document was a blank, white abyss. The cursor blinked in silent accusation. Kent began to type.

_Saffron was bored._ _This wasn’t a common issue for her. She had a wide variety of interests and a well-developed imagination. Nonetheless, she was bored._

The End


End file.
